


The Gift Of Giving.

by pekeleke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Complete, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 04:01:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1128091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pekeleke/pseuds/pekeleke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A meddling old friend pesters Harry Potter into gifting the man he loves with the plain and simple truth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gift Of Giving.

   
 **Title** : _**The Gift Of Giving.**_  
  
 **Rating** : G.  
  
 **Author** : pekeleke  
  
 **Word** **Count** : +/- 5K  
  
 **Challenge** : Written in celebration of Severus Snape's birthday.  
  
 **Warnings** : None.  
  
 **Disclaimer** : Don't own these characters. No money is being made out of this work.  
  
 **Summary:** A meddling old friend pesters Harry Potter into gifting the man he loves with theplain and simple truth.

_**_******A/N:** Now you can download this story on PDF format at ** [ rue16](http://rue16.com/readwtk.php?mxid=306&key=PEKELEKE6750476dd49144260d7fafc4d33fe8bf) ** _ ** _

_**__ ** _

**The Gift Of Giving.**  
  
  
Harry's anxious fingertips pulled nervously at the green ribbon sitting atop the carefully wrapped box that occupied far more desk space than was warranted by its relatively small size.  
“Merlin... I don't have enough balls to do this.” He growled to himself in frustration, bringing his furrowed forehead all the way down to his uncharacteristically uncluttered desk in order to bang it against the wooden surface with ever increasing force.

“There's no need for all that, dear boy. I'm reasonably certain that Severus will be delighted with his present.” Albus Dumbledore's portrait spoke softly from the painting he'd invaded just a few minutes ago, sounding so cheerfully reassuring that Harry groaned with dismay before commanding himself to take a deep breath and lift his head upwards, making a point of facing the old man despite his growing reluctance to continue their conversation.

“Why should he be? Just because you've pushed us to bury the hatchet since I joined the staff doesn't mean he would have ever bothered to approach me of his own free will, Albus. Our current friendship is a product of your persistent meddling. I don't know what I was thinking when I let you convince me that doing something as stupid as this was a good idea. He would have never sought out my company if you hadn't pushed him into it. He'd have never, ever, chosen me.”

Albus sat on the small garden bench that graced the painting he was currently inhabiting and sighed loudly, taking off his small square glasses and proceeding to rub the lenses clean with the billowing hem of his sleeve.  
“You're assuming that I have the kind of power over Severus' decisions that I haven't enjoyed since my death. He's no longer bound to me by a war-related vow. He's his own man now, Harry, and he was so hurt by my request that he'd be the one to kill me that he often denies me whatever I dare to ask of him on the grounds that he _'couldn't care less for it.'_ ”  
  
Harry's heartbeat accelerated so much that he felt literally dizzy with the speed of it's frantic pounding. His fingertips returned to the hopelessly mangled bow, attempting to re-arrange it to best advantage and managing only to pull it loose altogether. His eyebrows furrowed with frustration and he told himself to relax to no avail. He was beyond nervous. He'd gone past paralyzing anxiousness two days ago and right now he'd give pretty much anything to have the ground just open up directly underneath his chair and swallow him whole.

“That's HS and you know it, old man. Severus listens to you. He's always listened to you. He loves you like a father and would go to any lengths to please you.”

The portrait's twinkling blue eyes focused on him with confusion.  
“HS? What on Earth is HS?”

Harry blushed to the tips of his ears and groaned once again, unable to look in Albus' direction when he found enough presence of mind to clarify the meaning of that particular abbreviation.  
“It means hippogryph shit. I'm sorry I let that out in front of you, OK? I'm definitely spending too much time around the seven year students.”

“I see... You believe I'm leading you astray.”

Harry sighed, picked up the silky green ribbon with careful fingertips and looked fiercely at it while he forced himself to put the root of his fears into words.  
“I know you mean well, Albus, but... you and me, both, are a pair of hopeless romantics. Severus isn't like us. He's... self-contained. He doesn't need me like I want him to need me. He doesn't want me like that. He's content with the friendship we've developed and it's just madness to risk loosing the small part of him he's willing to give me to gain absolutely nothing.”

Albus looked at him with so much pity that his heart lodged in the middle of his throat and he had to look away, lest he crumble altogether in a heap of sheer despair.  
“Love is not ' _nothing_ ', Harry. Love is worth every risk it demands of you and if you think your current feelings aren't worth fighting for then they can't be anywhere close to real love, can they?”

Harry's hand closed into a tight, white-knuckled fist around the ribbon he still held. His eyes flashed with annoyance as he fixed them with unblinking ferocity on the deceptively innocent expression the old headmaster had adopted.  
“Don't play games with me, Albus. I love him. You know I do. I'd do anything for him. Anything...”

The portrait's subject looked thoroughly unimpressed. His eyes shone a cold blue as he perched his small lenses back over the bridge of his nose and proceeded to study him with the kind of unmistakable disappointment that made Harry's gut clench unpleasantly.  
“Those are pretty words, Harry. Very pretty indeed. They aren't worth the breath it took you to deliver them, though, are they? You'd do anything for Severus except putting him first, isn't that what it all boils down to?

“You sit there, feeling miserable all the way down to your soul and moan about how much you love him while telling me without any sort of shame that you'll deprive him of the joy of finding out that there's someone alive on this planet who actually adores him like he once adored your mother just to preserve the comfortable friendship that you now share with him.”

“Albus...”

“Tell me, dear boy, which one of those very different emotions do you honestly believe Severus needs the most? He's got plenty of colleagues who respect him, I assure you. Finding friends may be hard for him, but he's always been more successful at securing friendship than he's ever been at encountering love.”  
  
Harry's cheeks flushed with shame and he looked right at Albus with wide-eyed shock. His mind shouted out the answer to that question with the sort of unmistakable certainty that he knew would drive him to do something truly stupid in the next few minutes and he sighed explosively in the tense-filled silence that had taken over the room.  
  
“Even if I tell him... What good would it do?  He doesn't return my affection, Albus. Letting this particular cat out of its tightly closed bag could make our professional interactions very awkward.”

“You know the answer to that, don't you, Harry?  Severus will know he's not alone, regardless of whether he decides to stay put or walk away. He'll realize that he's loved, truly loved, as a man. As a human being. As... himself. That is the kind of gift that only you can give him and you're trying your best to avoid delivering it. You must put his needs before your fears or you'll never be worthy of him, that is for certain.”

Harry laughed softly under his breath, the sound was rattled and tinged with the kind of hysteria that nobody would have believed the Savior of the Wizarding World could have reason to produce in this lifetime.  
“Sometimes I really hate you, old man.” He growled, rubbing his face harshly with the palms of his hands before straightening in his chair and pulling his wand out of its holster in order to re-attach the hopelessly mangled ribbon back on the lid of the small box that still sat innocently on his desk.  
  
“I love you too, dear boy.” Albus chuckled, smiling beatifically as he watched him grab the present with trembling fingers and stand up determinedly before asking point blank:

“Where is the birthday boy, then? I'm pretty sure you know exactly what he's doing right now.”

Aged blue eyes looked at him soulfully for a very long time before their owner whispered softly:  
“He's all alone in his lab, as always, Harry. He's already endured Minerva's call for 'birthday tea' and accepted Fillius' gift of Firewhiskey and Pomona's book about rare potion plants. He's trying his very best to come up with a good excuse to absent himself from dinner because he knows there will be cake afterwards in the staff-room and he's feeling terribly embarrassed by the attention he's received so far.

“He's sad and lonely, in spite of the affection he's been showered with throughout the day, and he's trying his very best not to think about the fact that he's reached middle age without having a family of his own, or a partner, or anything other than the things he's always had: his potions and his books. His much despised solitude...”  
  
Harry's hand clenched around the gift he'd spent the last few weeks agonizing over and he forced himself to ignore the sudden burning in his eyes, glaring at Albus for all he was worth in an effort to avoid succumbing to his increasing need to curl into a tight ball of forlorn misery and fall down to the floor with the intention of never, ever, bothering to re-surface.

“You're laying that on too thick, you know? I've already decided to go see him, haven't I? There's no need to make me feel guilty for taking so long to gather my courage.”

Albus had the gall to beam unrepentantly at him.  
“I thought I'd give you a bit of extra-encouragement before sending you down to the dungeons, in case you were tempted to chicken out at the last second.”

“Ha. Ha. Bloody ha. Next time leave the dramatic speech out of it altogether, please. I'm nervous enough as it is. The last thing I need right now is having to deal with your shameless attempts to manipulate me into guilt-induced recklessness.”

The portrait's blue eyes misted over.  
“You're sounding more and more like Severus every day, Harry.”

“Argh! Go away, for Merlin's sake! Let me gather my wits in peace, will you? You can come back in an hour or two and help sink my mood even lower once Severus kicks me out of his lab -and his life- forever. I may need to scream abuse at you in order to feel better for letting you convince me that doing something as stupid as this is a good idea, so... be ready to put up with some serious ranting.”

“I'll be here if you need me, dear boy, although I sincerely believe that you won't. Severus would have never allowed me to browbeat him into seeking you out if he hadn't wanted to come closer in the first place. He's just using my insistence as a cover. For all his unmatched bravery he's Slytherin to the core and has never learned to avoid hiding behind his masks whenever he's... uncertain... of his welcome.”

Harry clenched his fists as he felt those soft words burrow under his skin, ripping past his meager defenses like dark hexes stubbornly determined to destroy them.  
“Don't give me false hope, Albus, I beg of you... There's no way Severus wants an idiot who's twenty years his junior and can't understand the meaning of the annoyingly long words he uses just to make him feel stupid. He's too elegant and cultured to ever settle for clumsy little me and I...”

Albus' portrait chuckled so softly that only the fact that Harry had known the man for decades allowed him to detect the deep sorrow that underlined his words when he whispered quietly:  
“You're definitely sounding more and more like Severus every day, my dear, dear, boy...”

**(~*~)(~*~)(~*~)**

  
Harry came to an agitated halt at the foot of the stairs and eyed the shadowy corridor that extended before him like the path to utter destruction with heart-pounding trepidation. He felt sick to his stomach and his palms were sweating so much that he had trouble holding onto the small box he'd come all the way down here to deliver.

He'd been teaching at Hogwarts for four years and, although he'd been madly in love with Severus Snape for the last two, he'd never been crazy enough to even consider confessing his affection to the man. They were friends. Good friends even, but they were nothing whatsoever beyond that.

It had taken Harry a long time to give up on his subtle flirting whenever Severus was around and accept the unwelcome reality that the older man would never really see him as a potential lover. Wooing the Slytherin had been a dream he'd discarded ages ago. A hope he'd forced himself to relinquish, no matter how much the decision had hurt him at the time, and he shouldn't have allowed Albus to convince him that he couldn't give up on Severus without giving the man a proper chance to reject him.

“I've been dropping hints left, right and center, Albus. He's Slytherin enough to have picked up on them and has done absolutely nothing to encourage me any further. He's not interested, for Merlin's sake!” He'd growled, trying to stand his ground against the old man's relentless meddling to no avail.

“Severus may be Slytherin in everything else, but he loves like a Gryffindor. He'll never pick up on subtlety when it comes to matters of the heart, Harry. You've got to kiss some sense into that stubborn head. You owe it to the two of you. Severus doesn't deserve to be given up on so easily.”

The memory of those words, spoken so softly in the privacy of his office not so long ago, brought much needed courage to his trembling knees and he forced himself to take the first terrifying step away from the staircase, venturing down the deserted corridor that would eventually lead him directly to Severus' personal lab with the same resolve that had given him the strength to decide on giving away the present he now carried and had fueled his decision to unveil the secrets of his hopelessly enthralled heart to its oblivious owner this one time. Severus definitely deserved to be informed that he's loved beyond reason and Harry's conscience deserved the small comfort of knowing that he'd tried his very best to reach that all-elusive happily ever after, before giving up on his futile dreams altogether...

**(~*~)(~*~)(~*~)**

  
“Enter.” Severus said in his utterly-distracted-by-the contents-of-my-cauldron voice and Harry swallowed frantically, running anxious fingertips down the hopelessly wrinkled jumper he was wearing in a nervous attempt to straighten it out before taking a deep breath and walking through the door.

“Ah... Harry. I wondered how long it'd be before Minerva sent someone to drag me up to dinner. I must say she's been unexpectedly cunning this year. I'd have had no compunction whatsoever about lying to Poppy's face again. She could never tell whether I'm really as sick as I claim to be or I'm trying to make my... sudden illness... sound a lot less grave than it is to escape her care.” Severus smiled at him, sighing with apparent good humor at what he assumed to be some sort of plot to drag him off to his own birthday celebration.

Harry's frame began to tremble all over. His throat dried as the warmth of that smile bathed his reeling senses in the kind of blissed-out physical awareness that released the thousand butterflies trapped inside his churning stomach, making him groan out loud.  
“The girls have nothing to do with this. I wanted to deliver your birthday present in private.”  
  
Severus' elegant eyebrows rose with surprise.  
“You've never given me anything before. I wasn't expecting...”

“I was remiss last year. I agonized over whether it was appropriate or not for me to get you anything and, by the time I decided to go ahead and do it, I was already too late.” Harry interrupted him, walking towards his worktable with the same determination with which he'd once walked towards certain death.

The Potions Master looked at him and frowned at whatever it was that he read on the lines of his face. A hasty incantation spoken over the gently simmering potion took care of whatever was on Severus' cauldron for the time being, allowing the man to focus completely on him.  
“What's wrong, Harry? You look... rattled.”  
  
"There's nothing the matter, I promise. I just... I want to... -no. I _need_ to tell you how important you are. To me, that is. You are important to me. I... I... Oh, for fuck's sake! Here. Take the bloody present and... have a happy birthday, Severus.” He shoved the box into his beloved's potion-tainted hands and turned around like a bloody coward, trying his very best to scurry out of the lab before the Slytherin could blink.

“Aren't you the least bit interested in watching me open it?” Severus asked in a bewildered tone, just as he'd reached the door, and Harry had no choice but to turn around and look directly at the strangely hurt expression that was so uncharacteristically clear in his love's gorgeous eyes.  
  
"I'm pretty sure you won't like it, but... go ahead." Harry stammered and lifted his arms upwards to hug himself in a clearly protective gesture that brought a frown to Severus' increasingly puzzled expression.  
  
"Why wouldn't I? It's not a Weasley prank, is it?" The older man questioned, looking down at the lovingly wrapped box before rubbing a gentle fingertip over the noticeable creases that ruined the artfully tied green bow decorating the lid. “You should have used magic to tie this, Harry. You mangled the poor thing completely...”

Harry tried his best to smile at the gentle rebuke, but he couldn't pull his gaze away from the careful finger that was tracing every wrinkle on that bow with utter care.

“I wish you'd open it already... This is torture, Severus.”  
  
Dark eyes fixed on his face, looking well and truly confused.  
“I thought you didn't want me to do that.”

“I'm mad. That's all. I've officially lost my bloody mind and its all because of you. I hope you're happy. Albus has been enjoying the spectacle with merciless delight for a while now.”

Severus' frown started to dissolve then and he tugged the edge of the ribbon lose ever so gently.  
“It can't be all that bad, then. Albus may be a manipulative old coot, but he'll never truly delight at your misfortune, so... relax, Harry. I promise to claim I love your gift even if I find it tasteless.”  
  
Harry wished he could have laughed, but he only managed to force his unresponsive lips to curve up in a pathetically tight smile. His eyes followed the motions of Severus' long fingers as they pulled the wrapping paper apart and curled gently around the top of the small box, tightening ever so slightly as they took hold of the lid and pulled it apart so slowly that Harry felt himself age an entire decade before those ebony-black eyes looked down and a shocked, wounded gasp broke the expectant silence.

“What is the meaning of this?” Severus asked tightly, lifting the ancient Potter family ring out of the box and exposing the delicate piece of jewelry to the harshness of his thunderous glare.

“I'm not playing a prank on you, Severus, I swear. That ring is the genuine article.” Harry's voice shook as he tried to avoid wilting under the horrible fury that was flashing, like thunder itself, across the narrow planes of his beloved's visage.

“Why would you give this to me? This ring belonged to your mother. She was wearing it the day she died. I remember seeing it on her finger when I lifted her cooling corpse off the floor...”  
  
Sweat began to bead on Harry's forehead as those words hammered what was left of his pitifully frayed composure and he croaked out anxiously:  
“She was wearing it because my father loved her. The ring belongs to whoever the head of the House of Potter loves the most. It has been in my possession since I turned twenty one. I was told to look after it and give it to whoever I chose to marry when I finally found The One.”

Severus' dark eyes were riveted on his face. He looked oddly still and watchful, as pale as moonlit snow.  
“Why are you giving it to me, then?”

Harry's green eyes filled with impotent tears and his heart broke into a thousand fragile shards when he forced himself to open his trembling lips and offer the truth, unvarnished.  
“I'm never going to marry anyone. I... This is the Potter's heart ring, Severus, and it belongs to you. No one else would be able to wear it, anyway. “

"Are you telling me that you love me, Harry?” Severus' voice shook as much as the Gryffindor's had done and his black gaze kept shifting from his colleague's expression to the ring he still held and back again in a seemingly endless loop.  
  
Harry smiled ruefully and rolled his shoulders in a pitiful attempt to look less than utterly shattered.  
“Gosh... I must have sucked at this confession business if you had to ask me that question. Don't tell Albus how badly I...”

“Stop babbling, boy!” Severus thundered in such a forceful tone of voice that Harry's spine stiffened instantly and he drew in a rattled deep breath before clamping his mouth shut. Furious green eyes glared at the potioneer with such ferocious anger that Severus shook his head from left to right and smiled briefly before he closed the distance between them and repeated his question in a softer and slightly breathless tone. “Do you love me, Harry?”  
  
Harry's hands bridged the small space that separated them and framed Severus' narrow face with clammy palms. Then he looked directly into those utterly beloved night-colored eyes and offered an embarrassingly wobbly answer:  
“I love you with all my heart, Severus. I will never, ever, be able to find true happiness if you turn your back on me...”  
  
Severus swallowed with difficulty and his dark, wide-eyed gaze flashed with obvious shock when Harry pushed himself up on tiptoes and planted the softest of all kisses on his snow-white forehead.  
  
“I'm sorry to have dumped this on you, sweetheart, but... I think I needed to say it and Albus insisted that you needed to hear it. I... I... Happy birthday, my love. Now I think I'll let myself out. You'll make my excuses to Minerva and the others, won't you? I'm not strong enough to attend their little party right now...” Harry whispered quietly, forcing his shaking hands to release the startled Slytherin before turning around on his heels in order to run towards the door with an embarrassing lack of dignity.

“No, I won't make your excuses to anyone, Potter. And I'd be beyond peeved if you dare to skive off my God damned birthday party, do you hear me?”  
  
Harry froze a mere breath away from the doorway. His heart plummeted towards the ground and he jerked around as if he'd been slapped, turning pleading eyes back on Severus.  
“I... What?  Why would you...?”

Severus lifted one of his elegant eyebrows in a gesture of such resigned forbearance that Harry's confused babbling came to a squeaky end. Silence fell across the lab, blanketing them in the kind of suffocating tension that made Harry literally itch with discomfort until Severus' slender fingertips lifted the gorgeous Potter family ring in the air, showing it to him with evident frustration before he started to berate him sternly:  
  
“It's customary to slide your bloody ring on your betrothed's finger when you tell them that you love them so much you can't bloody well live without them, Potter. This proposal of yours must have been the very worst in the history of Wizardkind... I expect you to remedy that immediately, do you understand me? I deserve the whole knee to the ground, stars in your eyes and an honest-to-goodness love declaration scenario and you better give me a proper kiss after that, too, or I'll never agree to have you.”

Harry staggered under the onslaught of the glorious joy that rushed right through him upon hearing Severus' annoyed words. He'd never been so glad of hearing this man tell him that he'd failed to meet each and every single one of his impossibly high expectations.  
"Are you...? Are you saying that you love me too? You'll accept this ring in the spirit in which its supposed to be given? You'll...?”

“On your knee, Potter. Here... Have your bloody ring back and give it to me properly. I'm not going to answer a single question until you bother to ask it with the fanfare it deserves. It's my birthday, after all, and I want a decent proposal, not a bumbling declaration that will make me cringe every single time I look at that ring of yours.”  
  
Harry's heartbeat slowed to a manageable rhythm as Severus placed his gift back in the palm of his hand. Their eyes met for a brief moment that allowed him to see the hungry longing that he'd never before noticed lurking in the depths of those dark eyes. He sank down on one knee with besotted eagerness and uncurled his fingers, allowing the light to illuminate the ring that rested in the very center of his palm with a soft glow that made it shimmer like a gold-dusted star.

“I came here to tell you how important you are to me. I wanted you to know that you are loved beyond logic. Beyond restraint. Beyond hope itself, Severus. I would certainly die in a world that does not hold you and I... I would give all that I have just to be able to fall asleep beside you and wake up to your grumpy face every morning of my life. This ring belongs to you, regardless of whether you accept to have me or not, my love, but I'm hoping that you'll do me the great honor of consenting to wear it. Severus Tobias Snape... Would you agree to bond with me?”

Severus swallowed with difficulty before smiling so sweetly that Harry caught his breath. His usually unreadable eyes looked soft and warm, open to scrutiny with the kind of delighted acceptance that made them look deliriously happy. Potion-tainted fingertips uncurled slowly from the tense fist they had formed as soon as Harry fell to his knee and rose towards the Gryffindor's head, burrowing in the soft mess of wild hair with a tenderness that Harry had never seen his love exhibit before now.

“Yes. I will bond with you, Harry. I never thought you'd care for me in this way, but I... I've been in love with you for ages.”

“Thank Merlin! And Albus' meddling portrait, while we are it...” Harry whooped, jumping to his feet so fast that Severus stumbled backwards and would have fallen on his arse if his annoyingly eager betrothed hadn't curled those gorgeously muscled arms of his around his waist and pulled him flat against a ridiculously athletic chest, as if he weighted no more than a feather.

A soft mouth brushed against his own, laving his lower lip with the kind of tender playfulness that made him gasp with wonder, allowing his young tormentor free access into a cavern that had rarely been visited before. Severus' tongue tangled hesitantly with Harry's, afraid of being found wanting, of failing to live up to his lion's expectations, of being abandoned as soon as it came out to play...

Harry sighed contentedly into the kiss and uncurled his hands from Severus' slender hips, allowing them to run ever so gently all along the painfully bony line of his love's spine until he could finally bury them in the luxuriant mass of inky locks that framed the narrow face of the skittish creature he'd learned to adore above all others.

Their first kiss was slow and tender. It was not a fevered and passionate attack, meant to blaze for a brief second before fading into inglorious oblivion. No. Their kiss was meant to awaken senses that had been long denied the right to even stir. It was a delicate promise of the sweet delights that would follow. It was a kiss that kindled a slow burning fire, bringing it into undeniable life while promising to allow it to grow ever stronger at its own pace. Harry sighed blissfully when he finally pulled his mouth away, looking right into black orbs that shone with quiet joy.

“Was this kiss more to your taste, my love?” He questioned playfully, pecking the tip of Severus' long nose before the man could even blink in response and then proceeded to smile brightly at him as he grabbed his left hand and slid the ancestral heart ring of the Noble And Most Ancient House Of Potter on to his fourth finger, admiring the look of the heavy gold band that now surrounded Severus' elegant digit with possessive satisfaction.

“Albus' portrait is going to be unbearably smug after this, isn't it?” Severus asked, shivering with mock horror even though the soft expression in his eyes belied the discontent of his words.

“He deserves to be as smug as he wants. I'd have never come down here if he hadn't pushed me to do it and now I shudder at the idea of how much that decision would have cost me...”

“Harry...”

“Shush. I'm not going all maudlin on you again, I promise. It's just that I've always heard people say that the real pleasure of a birthday isn't found in having everyone remember yours, but in your own ability to remember others' and your decision to gift them with the best you've got to give. I'll never scoff at that old chestnut again. I came here to gift you something I thought you needed and ended up giving the best present of all to myself...”

“How is that heap of mushy nonsense not maudlin, Potter? I swear I'll hex you all the way to Mars and back if you ever dare to send me a singing card for Valentine's.”

Harry broke into loud laughter and framed his narrow face with wicked impishness, planting a soft kiss upon his lips before stating:  
“Then it's lucky that I am a DADA master and have the necessary knowledge to protect myself from your wrath. A wise old man told me this evening that true love is worth fighting for and I simply refuse to let the most romantic day of all pass without telling you that your black eyes are like polished beetles that make my heart sing like... The Beatles!”

Severus gagged, utterly horrified, and croaked out an outraged: “Potter!” that drowned the soft popping sound that usually announced the arrival of a magical portrait inside a painting frame.

Albus' twinkling blue eyes blazed with satisfaction as they settled over the entwined figures of his beloved boys and he sighed with delight, catching Harry's strange comment about how no one in the castle would even recognize some muggle singing beetles before he hurled himself at Severus and kissed him softly on the mouth.  
  
“This is a sight for sore eyes...” The old man whispered to himself before Dissaparating directly into the Muggle Studies classroom, ready to find out more about the muggles' intriguing singing beetles. The boys needed some time to kiss and laugh and simply love one another before reality intruded in their lives once again. He should contact Minerva and tell her that Severus was lamentably indisposed and Harry had volunteered to look after him for the evening... He could convince her to hold Severus' birthday party tomorrow. Yes. Tomorrow would be the perfect day to cut Severus' favorite cake indeed. He couldn't think of a better way to celebrate the invaluable gift of young love finally fulfilled...

**The End**

 


End file.
